


His (Home)

by GrassyOrchards



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Dog adoption, Emotional Constipation, Enemies to Lovers, Everyone in this game has issues, Everyone needs a therapist especially these two, Fluff and Angst, M/M, McCullum has issues, Reid is NOT the dog I'm sorry if the summary sounds like that, Trust Issues, commitment issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:35:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24246625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrassyOrchards/pseuds/GrassyOrchards
Summary: McCullum wasn't so sure when exactly he started considering the dog as his. The filthy  thing had been following him around for years now, trotting at his heels with a steady gait and a slow wag of his tail.
Relationships: Geoffrey McCullum & Jonathan Reid, Geoffrey McCullum/Jonathan Reid
Comments: 16
Kudos: 69





	His (Home)

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be a drabble but I done messed up and kept writing. The power of Jonathan Reid is that he is very shippable and I love him with multiple characters.

McCullum wasn't so sure when exactly he started considering the dog as his. The filthy thing had been following him around for years now, trotting at his heels with a steady gait and a slow wag of his tail. He had ignored it mostly, but once it began alerting him to hidden threats before even he noticed them he began to give it some proper attention. Feeding it scraps and patting it between the ears. He continued roaming the streets of London, hunting down monsters of the night, and praising a stray until it became his. The guard were calling him Killer before McCullum even wanted to name him(because of course that's what they called him)and it stuck. Killer the ekon hunting mut, size of a beagle, heart of a shepherd.

The leech doctor even seemed to take an interest in the mut, squatting down to pet the knotted fur of the canine fondly, entirely unguarded in the shadows of the alleyway. As if McCullum wasn't pointing a crossbow at his chest, armed with spikes and years of hunting experience. Killer always barked and snapped and growled at leeches, but apparently even he fell to his charm. Reid would coo grossly, and laugh(disgusting fangs glinting, unhidden, showing them off, a silent threat-) as Killer muddied his prim and expensive clothes. No matter what threats and curses he threw at the man he was unperturbed, which in itself was an insult. It was a flashing sign, one that said he was comfortable around the hunter, one that said he didn't think he would kill him at a moment's notice. He saved London and suddenly thought he was less of an ekon and more of a man.

Which was true. Not that he would admit it out loud, the thought alone made bile sting the back of his throat. But, nonetheless when he looked at Reid he saw a hero, then a doctor. Leech was a loose label, hanging over both titles like an ominous cloud. A threat, sad as it was, ready to rip through and tarnish the tiny leeway of trust he held for the man. Watching a man play with your dog as gently as he would hold an infant however made it hard to picture putting a stake through his chest. 

Even in the dark, he looked deceptively human. Smiling and praising and petting-It was ridiculous to remember how dangerous Reid was. How easily he could hurt, kill, destroy. His claws, his fangs, his shadows-Even his blood, a weapon to be called upon from his fingertips. The crossbow in his hand quivers and he puts it away, kneeling, though his posture was more drawn in, defensive. He was still poised to defend himself. Reid's eyes flicked to his, and he pretended he didn't see the satisfied smile he pulled after.

"His name is Killer" He spoke, tone the same as he used to chastise him. It didn't phase him at all.

"Killer." Reid echoes, his distaste of the name hardly concealed. He chuckles, claws scratching gently at the fur of the dog's throat. "Guess I should have guessed that one." There are no further comments from either party and they eventually slip away silently.

Reid takes his dog one night, bathes it in his mother's mansion and grooms it with a brush definitely more expensive than the one he uses on his hair. McCullum hovers in the doorway, nerves screaming at his stupidity for following a leech into his domain. He had acted without thought, again. There were other humans here, his mother and his butler who he had greeted with tight lipped smiles. He can't have his crossbow out, not without drawing attention from the other residents, but that doesn't keep him from holding onto a stake in his pocket tightly. Reid seems so relaxed, just like he always does, coat hung up, shirt rolled up to the elbows as he bathed him. Back to him. It would be easy, really to take him out like this. Yet he was the one with a racing heart, waiting to be attacked. He of course, never was.

It becomes a regular occurance, at least once a month Killer gets a 5 star spa day by Reid's hands. He hovers in the doorway, waiting, awkwardly. Eventually McCullum grows to kneel next to him, running soap over his own dog's pelt. Not too long after that he doesn't even feel tense doing it. Soon that's how he is with Reid everywhere. They stroll alleys like friends, hunt like partners. Chat away the night like the sun won't kill one of them when morning comes. No tension in their shoulders, smiles on their lips-Their relationship grows achingly domestic. 

That's why McCullum runs away from it all.

They get closer, Killer and Reid both burrowing into his heart like parasites. He curses, reflecting bitterly on his warm affections for both the ekon and the dog. Attachments were only made to hurt you in the end, slow you down and then strike you down once your knees hit the dirt. And, holding the bleeding body of Killer alone in the Irish Isles, he found the words to be true. The canine whimpered and rolled in his hold, bleeding and howling in pain from skal inflicted wounds. And McCullum, seasoned killer, hunter, emotionally detached from everything, was crying. Shameful hot tears. There was no one to shame him, no one to comfort him. He was completely and utterly alone, hundreds of miles from London, the place with the one man who would spare him a second glance in this moment. 

Killer was growing old, more sluggish, gray fur was dotting along his muzzle. Now he was worse for wear than when he found him starved on the streets, one hind leg amputated, and the other wrapped with tight bandages. Bites on his side were wound up similarly, and his missing ear was glued, hopefully keeping the thin wound sealed. He had lived, but was certainly never going on a hunt again. McCullum pulled him tightly against him, eyes cast on the starry sky above the boat. To London. He wasn't so sure when he started to consider London as his home. He had craved Ireland for so long, waiting and rotting in the streets of London. But when he returned there was nothing there for him, what he wanted was long gone. But he couldn't stay home either. Because what he wanted was right there in front of him, and it made him weaker. Vulnerable, blurred his priorities.

The three things he even remotely cared about were now deeply associated with London, and he could not pull them away from her any longer. The Guard of Priwen, they were everywhere they needed to be, but now their roots now sat in London. It had become their homebase during the epidemic and that didn't really change even as the team spread out to other locations once more. Killer, he followed him everywhere, but was always best prowling the streets of London. The loyal canine knew those streets, had roamed them since he was a pup. And then there was Reid, who he had somewhat(totally) abandoned was still there, probably not expecting to ever see him again. To hear of his death in some letter, the one he keeps in his pocket addressed to him for whenever a hunt is inevitably his last. With some half baked admittance of warm feelings, apologies for dying, and a lack of bitter harsh words. All addressed to Doctor Jonathan Reid, no leech scrawled anywhere.

But now he was heading back, himself, Killer, The guard, and Reid all in one place again. His heart was elated as much as it was held down with stones. He was letting the weakness bury its way into his heart, permanently. And it didn't even bug him that much anymore, it felt normal. "This is temporary." He reassured himself, unconvincingly. He wouldn't stay, he couldn't. A weak mantra that he echoed in his mind until he arrived in London, utterly exhausted.

"You want me to take Killer in for his last few years, and you are going back to Ireland to hunt skals and ekon?" Reid's voice was thick with disapproval, brow quirked with disbelief. They stood in his office, tension unrelated to being an ekon hunter and an ekon hanging between them. Killer lays curled in bed, unaware of the argument taking place mere feet away from him.

McCullum stays near the doorway, an echo of how things used to be, of how things shouldn't be. The only thing that speaks of how things had changed was the lack of a scarf around his neck, a layer of trust left with Reid even as he faces his disapproval head on. "I don't believe I stuttered." He bites back, voice lacking the edge he wished it had. His fingers twitch at his side, a sign of emotional weakness he wanted to swallow. 

Reid looks taken aback, his eyes flash. He looks hurt-the deep set emotional kind, the kind that is far harder to deal with than physical pain. "Are you serious?" He steps forwards, anger slipping into his face. "You leave out of the blue without so much of a goodbye, don't write once, then you come back, not to see me, not to say anything-To dump your dog on me and to leave again?!" Each word is punctuated by a growing growl, a very inhuman sound. He is suddenly very aware of how much of a threat Reid is, lips drawn back, claws spread and ready to kill, fury in his eyes. A tremor of not quite fear stammers in his heart. 

But anger is easier, Reids words were justified, they always were, but McCullum can fall back on anger. Anger is easy, and it doesn't hurt as much as the alternative. He growls back, something pathetic in the face of an angry ekon. "Well what the hell did you expect leech?!" His fists clench at his side and his teeth grind, but he doesn't reach for a weapon yet. "A bouquet of roses and a bottle of champagne?" He sneers, waiting for the repercussions of his unabashed anger. 

Reid is on him in a second, in his face, angry. His teeth are visibly bared, glaring at him, they're practically eye to eye, something neither of them are used to. He waits for him to lash out, to hit him, to yell, to bite him even. Anything to justify him leaving. But his face twitches, then crumples. Grief takes over, shoulders slumping with a sigh that was far too sad. "No, of course I didn't expect that Geoffrey. I know you, but I at least…" he dragged a hand across his face, leaning back. "I thought there would at least be something." 

His anger is redirected, deflated and pointed towards himself. Reid had no right to look so defeated, so crushed by this. To make his heart scream and writhe in his chest. Reid puts his hand on his shoulder but it feels distant, as impersonal as his eyes are growing. He lets out a breath, this hurts him physically. "Of course I'll take care of Killer." His voice is masked, his composure has been recaptured perfectly. A stranger would believe the smile, the even tone. But McCullum knew better, the shine in his blue eyes, the grief was still very alive. "Enjoy your hunt McCullum." His words are ice, settling over his heart and freezing it. Reid turns, back to his office, away from McCullum, and it was wrong-

"-"Reid." He's initiating more, he's reaching out. He didn't plan on it yet here his stupid mouth is, going on its own accord. Get rid of the temporary his mind yells, walk away and forget this pain, go numb and angry and survive. Forget this, forget him. Just walk away. "What-" he swallows as Reid stills, his heart goes from frozen to racing and he knows he can hear it "-What do you want." His voice was a fragile thing, his own sorrow barely concealed. If it sounded this bad to him he didn't want to know what the overly analytical doctor heard in it.

Reid is as still as stone, does not turn to see him. "I want you to stay, Geoffrey." The words are simple, but they nearly knock him to his knees. His breath hitches again, a shaky noise leaving his mouth. Reid doesn't comment on it. "The streets of London are no longer skal infested but they are still filthy and rancid at their core. Vermin with the skin of men crawl, stepping on the lesser, tearing out their throats with teeth and claws." He wasn't talking about leeches at all "And when they find themselves at the top they eat each other. Ravenous, always hungry, greedy and filthy."

Reid turns, his face is too calm, it's still a mask. McCullum's stomach churns but he steps in, past the door frame and past the temporary. Uncharted, terrifying territory. "I do what I can, but even as an ekon my abilities are limited. I can't save everyone, can't stop every monster." He sharply inhales, voice softening. "It is a job most unpleasant, it… Gets in your head, got in my head. Your companionship made it easier, even with your brashness, it was something to look forward to." He gave a crooked half smile that looked awkward on his face, even more forced than before. 

"And I wasn't sure what to do once you disappeared, I feared the worst. I thought you died alone in some abandoned house or sewer, but then I heard from one of your guards that you had run off to Ireland. You walked away from our friendship like we had nothing, then you didn't come back until now. Until you needed something from me, and now you wish to walk away again." Reid was dramatic and cheesy as usual, but it was familiar. It was personal and the words were for him, and they stirred deep in his belly. They were accusatory, angry, pained, but his own anger didn't flare up. For once his other emotions were stirring, taking the stage. He felt pathetic.

"That's where you're wrong, Reid." McCullum's voice seems to startle Reid, a small jump rising through his shoulders. "You weren't my friend." He doesn't let the hurt stay in his eyes, lets the words continue to fall out of his mouth, uncontrolled. He's never felt this out of control, and it's killing him. "You were more." And that's what's terrifying. That's what scares me, that's why staying is difficult. Why I want to run away. Why I want to stay. He couldn't say the rest, the words stuttered to a standstill at the back of his throat. Even when they were tumbling freely there were things he couldn't say. But Reid could read his eyes as well as he could. He heard them without them being spoken.

Reid stares, throat bobbing as he searched for the right words to say in return. He settled for the simplest "Then stay." But it was all McCullum needed. He was swayed so easily. Reid could tell him to jump off a bridge next and he just might. He felt drained. Emotionally, physically, mentally, he was a puddle. His shoulders sagged as he nodded, shutting his eyes and continuing the motion until he felt he might puke. 

Reid touches him, grabs his shoulder gently. His eyes open lazily. "You're tired Geoffrey, sleep." He didn't comment on his weakness, on their relationship, or whatever tied them together now. He was grateful, he couldn't be pushed to talk more tonight. This was already too much. He guides him to the bed, and he's sitting before he really registers it. He bites back a sarcastic comment, he doesn't want to ruin the thin layer of peace they have settled over the raw wounds. Their understanding, hardly spoken on his end, was still flawed. But he was home, and when you were home everything else comes naturally.

Reid moved, away, again. His heart stuttered as he moved to the door, ready to head out to play doctor on the streets of London. "Reid, wait." He echoes similar words from mere moments ago, and Reid stilled, the same exchange. "Stay. Stay with me." He spoke, hands fisting the blanket he sat on. He had no right to ask that, especially not now. Reid turned, approaching slowly, as if he were a scared animal. Like he might bolt if he got too close. He didn't blame him, he felt like he might. The unknown was terrifying. 

Reid stands, and with him sitting he absolutely towers over him. He searched his face, looking for approval or rejection, making sure what he was doing was okay. A true gentleman. He continued, hands settling on his shoulders as he leaned down. The kiss was gentle, far too gentle for an ekon and a hunter. McCullum wasn't fragile glass, he was a seasoned hunter. His skin was littered with bites, bullet holes, and wounds of all kinds. If this was going to happen, if he was going to stay, they had to jump into the deep end. Reid had all the time in the world but Geoffrey didn't, he wouldn't tip toe around this like two teens sneaking out of church to hold hands and exchange timid kisses behind closed doors. He didn't deserve anything, not from Reid. But just this once he was going to be selfish, take it all for himself. What Reid would give he would take. He wouldn't lose this opportunity to have him again.

McCullum grabs Reid's shoulders, pulls him closer, pulls his lips harshly against his own. Reid gasps, startled as his knees hit the bed. He falls into a half straddle, practically sitting on McCullum's lap as their kiss grows deeper, as a tongue scrapes against his fangs. They're sharp, and he doesn't think the small wound they make is an accident. McCullum's blood, even as teasingly small as the few drops really were, was addicting. The taste was entirely McCullum, it embodied him entirely and made Reid want to never let go. If he had less control he would seek out more, chase those drops until McCullum couldn't give more. But he was beyond his primal ekon instincts, the man the blood came from was worth far more than the blood itself. He growls into the kiss, pushing him back until he was properly caged underneath him, blinking up to meet his eyes cheekily.

Reid pulls away, chest heaving before diving into his neck. McCullum's heart stutters, a moment of deep set fear takes over. His left hand grips his shoulder harder, his right slipping away to one of his many concealed weapons. A reminder of the trust they needed to reestablish, of a relationship and boundaries that still needed to be discussed. Gently, like he had started, he presses kisses across his neck, no marks, nothing harsh. Reassurance. He peppers them until he calms down, slacking in his hold again. He pulls back, sighing contentedly that his hunter was back, with him, in a way he was too scared to ever suggest before.

McCullum blinks, staring up at the ekon fondly. His heart rate calms, he wasn't being bit. Reid was just being an affectionate idiot. He moves to initiate another kiss but yawns halfway to it, an ugly sound to go with a rather unattractive expression. Reid chuckles, pulling farther away. "Go to bed my dear hunter. We can resume our conversation when you wake up." He reassures, earning an amused snort. That was the most interesting conversation he's ever had. 

He thinks about refusing, about making our with Reid until his lips are numb. Pull him close and warm him, make own body heat becomes theirs. Share it. But, he is tired. Sighing he shifts, wiggling out of Reid's arm cage and to the edge of the bed. Reid backs away as he shucks off his coat, kicking off his boots and pulling away his belt. By the time he is prepared for sleep the best a man can be in company Reid is turned away, back to him as if he were stripping to be nude. "You're a doctor, Reid. I'm sure you've seen a man without his boots and belt on before." He teases as he pulls away the covers. Reid merely scoffs in return. He slides under, realizing with only brief hesitation that he is about to leave himself at his most vulnerable with an emotional ekon having full access to him. Killer stirs from where he was resting at the base of the bed and gives him a sharp look, like his thoughts had awoken him. It is nearly as dissaproving a look as Reid had given him earlier.

Reid turns, palms pressed against eachother firmly "You… Will be here when I return?" He asks, hopeful, expectant, shoulders tense again. Of course he had to go out and do his nighly doctor trip, even with McCullum back in London, in his bed nonetheless. He wondered if it was a hero complex, stemmed from stopping the disaster, or if he was genuinely that much of a bleeding heart. Either way, McCullum was a man of the people and the display had him softening around the edges again. 

"I'll be here." He promises, and Reid smiles the most genuine smile he's had all night. He could have easily lied, Reid trusted him far more than he should. Even after abandoning him, his trust is regained with a few words. He falls asleep troubled, but content. 

He awakens, unsure of the time. Reid is next to him, sleeping soundly. He is positioned at the edge of the bed, a gentleman trying to keep his space, but his arms have spread out, one draped over McCullum's back in a loose hug. It must be daytime if he is sleeping so deeply. Killer is curled at their feet, the old dog happily sleeping away more hours of the day. Everything was okay. Reid was here, he wasn't going to leave. And neither was he. There was no more temporary, they had paved a path to something long lasting when he had planned on abandoning it all again. Reassured, Geoffrey goes to sleep, settled right in at home. He would be here.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I love you thankyou for reading my garbage fires, feedback is always appreciated ♡


End file.
